


Arrangements

by MariaJonsson



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 04:03:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3595623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MariaJonsson/pseuds/MariaJonsson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i><a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/3394886/chapters/7805249">Wildling AU</a></i> - Ned speaks to his father after compromising his honor with their captive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arrangements

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** I wrote this for the last day of CatxNed week on [Tumblr](catxned.tumblr.com). It is part of a story I wrote for a meme on tumblr where the Starks were banished beyond the wall after a Bolton rebellion and then years later Brandon kidnaps Catelyn - previous intallations [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3394886/chapters/7805249).  
>  **Disclaimer:** All characters and settings belong to GRRM, this is just for fun :D

Honour. A word Ned Stark had been taught before he was old enough to walk. Winter is coming, might be the words of House Stark, but Rickard Stark was as fond of honour, although Lyarra Stark had said that her husband was merely fond of the sound of his own voice.

How could Ned face the man? How was he to explain?

Father had trusted him to watch over their captive, and instead Ned had fallen in love with her, and then taken her into his bed, as if she were a common brothel girl and not a highborn maiden, or she had been a maiden, before Ned had dishonoured her. 

She had sparked something within him the moment he had laid eyes on her, her blue eyes furious as Brandon held her in front of him on his horse, her hands bound, and her bright auburn hair tangled. She had tried pleading with him, and even though he had wanted to let her go, wanted to take her back to the family she belonged to, Brandon had been adamant in wanting to bring her with them. 

When they had returned to the camp that had always been their home, Rickard Stark had been ready to murder his first born, commanding him to stay away from the girl, and not bring further dishonour upon their family name. Rickard had then cast Ned with the responsibility of watching over their guest. A task Ned had not been entirely thrilled with, seeing as he was already quite taken with Lady Catelyn, and he did not need her to be sharing his tent at night.

At first things had gone as well as could be expected, they had slept in different corners, and most days Catelyn had not spoken, and she barely ate. She had sat in silence and stare into the air, as if waiting for a sign. Then other days she had raged and screamed, and Ned had stay with her until her fire died out and she retreated to her own corner of their tent and cry herself to sleep, although she had tried her best to hide her tears from him.

A month after they had returned, he had woken one night to her sneaking into his makeshift bed, curling herself around his back, and at first he had thought she had been trying to seduce him into letting her go, but when he had tried to turn around she had pushed him down. 

"No, please don't," she whispered, pushing her freezing fingers against the bare skin of his neck. "I'm cold." 

Ned had grumbled something and then promptly fallen asleep again, waking the next morning to find her gone, and he had wondered if he had dreamt it. Until she had returned the next night, again pressing her body against his, dragging her furs with her this time, so when he had awoken the next morning he had been drenched in sweat and she had still been there, curled up like a cat, sleeping soundly.

This had gone on for moons, then a year, and for the last few moons they had not even pretended to sleep apart and had fallen asleep together every night he was in camp, and the times he would leave, Lyanna would stay with her, despite her grumbling that Catelyn didn't like her – Ned looked up from his feet just in time to see his sister running through the camp with a girl of her age. Despite only being a couple of years younger than Catelyn, his little sister was still a child, and in his eyes she probably always would be, in the sense that she needed his protection, despite being able to defend herself quite well, which was why he had picked her to watch over Catelyn.

Catelyn seemed to like Lya, only a little better, finding her brash ways a bit too harsh, but most times Catelyn would treat her as a little sister, trying to softly teach Lya feminine ways. To Ned’s surprise, Lyanna had shown Catelyn as much patience as she was capable of and most days the two women would get along just fine, especially when they were not forced to spend too much time together.

Not wanting to delay speaking with his father while he still had his courage, Ned quickly passed by unnoticed and rushed towards his father’s great tent and quickly let himself inside. Once he reached the next part of the tent, Ned waited.

“Father?” Ned spoke, when he heard no voices inside.

“Come inside, Ned,” Father said, and Ned did not hesitate, knowing that facing his father was still better than facing himself. 

Father was seated at his desk, and despite the meagre quarters, the man was nothing sort of Lord like, and Ned knew other people often felt the same, which was why the Free Folk respected his father. Rickard Stark represented strength, and the Free Folk followed strength. Sometimes it felt strange to think of himself and his family outside of the people that they so often saw and lived among. There were others with them that were of the North, most of them having been born North of the Wall, but considered themselves Northern folk instead of Wildlings, the Free Folk did not refer to them as Kneelers, but one could hear it whispered now and then, especially among newcomers to their small town. Ned’s grandfather had tried to build a town here, with houses made of stone and trees, but the winter here was hard, and near constant, so the houses blew away, and now only the walls remained, keeping the people within them, mostly safe from predators, and surprise attacks, making it better than most strongholds North of the Wall.

“Did you need something, son?” Rickard Stark asked, looking up from his letter, and the black ravens behind him both made sounds, as if speaking to each other.

“I needed to speak with you,” Ned said, looking past his father at the two ravens, wondering when they had returned – dark wings, dark words.

“Sit down son, I do not think looking at my birds will help you with your words,” Father spoke, and Ned quickly did as he bid.

Ned did not speak, and waited, as if to see if his father knew, perhaps he sensed Ned’s betrayal, his dishonour, but nothing happened and Father went back to writing his letters, patient as always, making Ned think of his mother, who had often been as brazen as Brandon and Lyanna, while Ned was more like their father, stern and solemn, patient when the others would be restless, thinking while the others would be loud.

If Ned wanted this over with, he’d have to be the first one to speak, else they might spend their entire day there in silence.

“Father, I must speak with you of Catelyn,” Ned said, trying to sound firm, but not defiant.

“Mhm, what of our Lady Catelyn?” Rickard muttered, not even looking up from his correspondence.

“I…” Ned hesitated, perhaps this was a bad time. Father had been awfully busy lately, and had taken another trip, this one even longer than the one a few months before he had sent him and Brandon South of the Wall. Although he would never speak of where he went or why, only taking Rodrik Cassel along and returning within a few moons.

“Is the Lady alright?” his father looked up, alarmed by Ned’s inability to speak.

“She’s fine,” Ned said quickly, an image of her sleeping with her hair loose around her face passing through his mind. 

“Then what is it?” Rickard pressed, his curiosity peaked. 

“I have failed you father,” Ned said, his jaw tightening, shame washing over him, but to his surprise there was no regret. Only shame and dishonour, both tied towards his family, and not the woman his heart belonged to. 

Rickard Stark put down his quill and leaned forward, inspecting his middle son, the one he had put his trust in. 

“Out with it boy,” Rickard spoke sternly. 

“I’m terribly sorry, father. I had not intended for anything to happen.” Ned stopped speaking, licking his dry lips before continuing in a whisper. “I bedded Catelyn.”

“I beg your pardon?” Rickard Stark growled, his storm coloured eyes staring into Ned’s, and Ned thanked the Gods that his father was not as hot blooded as Brandon, for he would have no doubt leaped across the wide desk and strangled Ned with his own bare hands.

“I didn’t force myself on her,” Ned quickly added. “I love her.” 

“Love!” Rickard laughed. He stood suddenly up from his seat and started pacing the floor, his words too low for Ned to understand.

When Ned was about to stand up and leave, allowing his father time to gather his thoughts, his father stopped him.

“Sit down Eddard,” Father said, both of them returning to their seats. “I cannot say that I am pleased by this,” he started before stopping, running a hand over his bearded face.

Chuckling, Rickard shook his head. “The wolf's blood is apparent in both Lyanna and especially Brandon, I sometimes even see it in Ben, they are like your mother in that, they allow their desires to cloud their thoughts, and sometimes that leads to disaster, and other times they are rewarded for it.” 

Ned sat silent, quite used to being left out of his father’s talks of wolf’s blood, after all Ned shared few of the qualities that his father referred to as wolf’s blood. Sometimes though he wondered if that was why Father was fonder of Brandon and Lyanna. Why he worked harder to include them, why he thought more often of them. 

“When I was but a boy, I fell in love, or so I believed,” Father continued, and Ned stared at him shocked. “Oh yes, I might be your father now, but I was once just a little boy. She was older than I, and so beautiful, and brash. So when I was about to reach manhood, I thought I was capable enough to steal myself a wife, as the Free Folk do. To say that she did not appreciate my attempts at romance would be unfair; for I still carry the scar she gave me for my troubles. It was the first and only time I allowed my own wolf’s blood to control me.” 

Father looked quite lost in his thoughts of the past, and Ned was curious who the woman might be, a woman that had managed to make the great Rickard Stark do something so foolish. 

“Lyanna often reminds me of her, the same smile and defiant look in her eyes,” Rickard said fondly. “Your mother knew her duty so when our parents made arrangements so that our line would continue with strong Stark blood, she did not protest, and she never told anyone about the boy who had sneaked into her tent, although she liked to hold it over me when it suited her needs.”

Ned looked up surprised, while his parents had clearly cared much for him and his siblings; he had never sensed passionate love between his parents. Respect, yes. Affection and mutual interest in restoring the Starks to their rightful place, but never something as deep as love.

“Your mother did not love me, but we grew to care for one another and she loved you and your siblings deeply, but it was never meant to be,” Rickard said, seeming content with what he had been given and Ned felt a hand grab around his heart, for he could now grasp why his father had shared this story with him.

“I will not give her up,” Ned growled. “I love her and she loves me.”

Father’s smiled a strange smile, “and your brother will no doubt say that he was the one to steal her, so she should belong to him.”

Ned could feel his face heat up in sync with the rage inside him. “Let him try to take her again,” Ned spoke in a harsh manner, banging his fist on his father’s desk, surprising himself with his outburst, but he was too angry to retreat, to fall back into line.

“Good, son, be angry and prepared, for you might be forced to defend her quite often, Lady Catelyn has been blessed by the Gods with many qualities, most notably beauty often unheard of in these parts,” Rickard said.

“Do not speak in riddles, father,” Ned said, his brows drawn together in confusion and anger.

“I cannot change the past. I can no more make this disappear, then I could make your brother’s actions fly into the wind,” he said softly. “Brandon brought her here for his own purposes, I kept her here for a political advantage. I had arranged so many plans, plans that were to bring us closer to Winterfell, but when your brother stole a daughter of a great house, he left us vulnerable and exposed. The Tullys were there to serve our needs and Brandon stole Lord Tullys oldest daughter, a young woman whom he had already promised to our house in exchange for his help in restoring us to our rightful place. When Brandon took her, he jeopardised our future, his future.”

“Catelyn was to marry Domeric Bolton,” Ned said.

“That was the ruse, Lord Tully sent his brother and a few trusted men to inspect Winterfell, to see if it could be penetrated, what its weaknesses were, how many men Roose Bolton keeps there. He never intended to go through with the betrothal. Lord Tully does not like Bolton, and believes that he allows men to raid the Riverlands, but without definitive proof he cannot bring it to the King, and the Riverlands are much harder to defend than the North, so he does not want to risk open warfare,” Father explained, leaning back in his seat, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

“This is why you have been disappearing? To meet with the Lords in the South?” Ned asked, more confused than ever.

“Yes, not only Lord Tully, but other Lords as well, many Lords of the North, men who wait our return, who plot against the Boltons in our names,” Rickard explained, and Ned could see the look of pride on his father’s face.

“How many are there?” Ned wondered aloud.

“Many,” Rickard said, not elaborating further. “I do not want to burden you, and you understand that you must speak of this to no one, especially your Lady Catelyn.

“Why not? Does she not deserve to know that we never intended to take her, that she can go home,” Ned asked, bewildered.

“She cannot go home, not now, not before the revolution is over,” he explained, leaning forward and looking Ned in the eyes. “You cannot tell her, Ned, it would not help her and it might risk all that we have done to return home.”

Ned felt conflicted between his loyalties to his family and his love, he knew his duty, but now this duty pulled him in two different directions.

“What about Catelyn? I have dishonoured myself, but I have also dishonoured Catelyn, and while that was not what I would have wanted, it has happened and I must do something to mend what I have broken,” Ned said, not wanting to agree to anything that would further hurt Catelyn.

“And what, my son, do you want to do? You speak of righting this wrong, but I do not have the answers. I cannot ask Lord Tully for his blessing after what Brandon has done, but I had hoped he would be more compliant if I could promise him that Lady Catelyn would become Lady Stark, but I can’t promise that until I have Winterfell, and it would seem Lady Catelyn would be quite reluctant to marry your brother in any case,” his father said, folding his hands in front of him in defeat.

Ned clenched his fist and swallowed his pride, “Catelyn will do her duty. If her father intended for her to marry Brandon, and still wishes for her to do so, then she will do his bidding, and if that is what she wishes I will not stand in her way, but I cannot choose for her."

Family, Duty, Honour. These were the Tully words and Catelyn had been taught them well, and when she spoke of it, Ned could not hear any of the resentment he so often heard in Lyanna’s voice when father would remind her of where they came from. Catelyn was bound by her family’s words, but she did not resent them and had enjoyed the life she had lived within their restrictions, even not being able to hold any bitterness towards her younger brother, whose birth had forfeited her right to rule the Riverlands.

“It cannot be,” Rickard muttered. “That dream must be set aside, and new ones must rise from the ashes. You must marry Lady Catelyn.”

The End


End file.
